


Dusty Carriage

by Menchin



Series: Ashes [1]
Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Gridania (Final Fantasy XIV), Staring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24441931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menchin/pseuds/Menchin
Summary: Alphinaud Leveilleur is feeling perplexed.
Series: Ashes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829986
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Dusty Carriage

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT (30.05.2020.) - Don't mind me, just adding a sentence that AO3 decided not to include at all for some reason.

Gridania has a decidedly terrible road network. This was the thought firmly embedded in the mind of one Alphinaud Leveilleur as he journeyed to New Gridania in the first dusty carriage his sister could find in her boundless impatience.

However, it was not only this that left him perturbed at the time of his gloriously uncomfortable journey.

Peering through his bangs like his sister taught him to at the Academy, the young Elezen beheld two figures sitting across from him in what one could generously describe as carriage seats.

One was a middle-aged merchant cradling a bottle of cheap spirits, likely come from Ul’dah. Not an uncommon sight.

The other – well. Uncommon sight would be a vast understatement.

This figure was covered head to toe in heavy armor, made of a metal Alphinaud couldn’t place at a glance. He was unsure if this was due to a general lack of knowledge or what seemed to be a fine layer of dark ash covering the entire surface of the armor. The dull gold pieces clinked together with every bump on the road, and Alphinaud was left to wonder how the carriage – or the figure’s bones - hadn’t shattered under the constant weight of what had to be quarter-ilm thick armor.

Wiping the remains of whatever swill he was drinking off his moustache, the Ul’dahn merchant turns to the armored figure with a smile plastered to his face and extends the bottle to them.

“Oi lad, want some? Ya look like ya need it!” Lad. Male, then? It was difficult to tell under all those layers.

The “lad” did not deign to provide the merchant with a verbal response. With a creak of leather and chainmail, he shook his head. _Well now, that was quite rude._

The merchant retracted his hand and frowned, turning away. “Pah, more for me.”

Lad finally decided to abstain from his deathly stillness – _is he even breathing?_ – and shifted to a presumably more comfortable position, revealing that his weapon of choice was… nothing. He was entirely unarmed. The only things on his hips were an odd, rather fragile-looking flask and a dark leather satchel.

Alphinaud looked down at his hands once again and found that he was somewhat perplexed. _A rare occurrence, certainly!_ , the malevolent spirit of his sleeping sister spoke in his mind. What kind of warrior does not carry a weapon? Lad certainly did not seem like a pugilist.

Looking up at the stranger across from him once more, he was struck with the sensation that he was being watched himself.

And indeed, through the slits in the stranger’s - _rather intimidating_ – helmet, Alphinaud could see a pair of eyes looking directly at his own, pupils glowing under the Twlevleswood shade, the same soft orange that the stranger’s flask had been.

* * *

Heaving his elbows onto his knees, the armored warrior was struck with a singular thought.

_Why is the white-haired maiden staring at me?_

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun to write. Might do some more.
> 
> Hell, I'll even take requests/suggestions if you'd like to send some.


End file.
